


If no one who wants to do it can be allowed

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 14:17:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17003235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: Cersei looks West, and begins to move. Court, and Jaime, follow.





	If no one who wants to do it can be allowed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tywinning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tywinning/gifts), [Purrfect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purrfect/gifts).



> The major problem—one of the major problems, for there are several—one of the many major problems with governing people is that of whom you get to do it; or rather of who manages to get people to let them do it to them.   
> To summarize: it is a well-known fact that those people who must want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it.   
> To summarize the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.   
> To summarize the summary of the summary: people are a problem.   
> And so this is the situation we find: a succession of Galactic Presidents who so much enjoy the fun and palaver of being in power that they very rarely notice that they’re not. And somewhere in the shadows behind them—who? Who can possibly rule if no one who wants to do it can be allowed to?
> 
> \- The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, Douglas Adams
> 
> ***
> 
> I am only the messenger - credit to Lauren!

In all the terror of Joff’s death - her beautiful, golden son, the king Westeros deserved - Cersei found a strange sort of clarity. She had heard before that disaster breeds opportunity, and had never thought to find the truth of that in such a nightmare.

“We must go home,” she said, running her fingers through Jaime’s too long hair. His head against her breast was the most welcome thing in the world, even if the blunt end of his wrist was abhorrent against her thigh. At least Qyburn had removed the rot from it, so the smell was gone. “We have to go home, and bring the children with us.”

Father would object, of course. He would never agree that moving court to the Rock could be a show of strength. He would see it as a retreat, as cowardice, but he would be wrong. Cersei knew Westeros better than he had in years, and she as Queen Regent would see that all the realm knew the true power of House Lannister. She would crown Tommen, and she would bring Myrcella home, and they would win this war. Stannis would fall before them, the Riverlands and the North would come to heel, and these fool rumours of  _ dragons  _ in the east would be proven as false as the Imp.

“I can release you from your vows,” she whispered against his ear, curling her hand around his limp, beloved cock, “and you can be the man you were always meant to be.”

Jaime slept on, unaware of her plans. He would agree to them, though - he always did.

 

* * *

Once, when they were children, before she had known of Rhaegar and understood what it could be to be Queen, Cersei had dreamed of marrying Jaime. Who else could truly deserve her? No one else had ever been her equal, and she knew even then that no one else ever would be, short of a dragon.

Arrangements were being made for their transfer west. They were to escort Lord Tywin’s body home to Casterly Rock, and then they would remain there, in safety and power, with Tommen as King. Jaime would become Lord of the Rock once he was released from his vows, but Cersei knew that she could rule them both. Tommen was very much like his father in some ways. He was a good, obedient boy, if nothing else. She wished he was stronger and fiercer, more like Joffrey and herself, more like that side of Jaime, but she could mould him into a useful sort of king if she chose. All she had to do was keep him away from that poisonous little bitch, in all her roses and black silks. All the appearance of mourning save for grief, that one, and all the more dangerous for how easily she could turn her wiles on Tommen. 

Jaime did not recognise pretty Margaery as a threat, not the way Cersei did, but at least he saw the wisdom in taking her father and all their  _ friends  _ away from power. Mace Tyrell could not be allowed to become Hand. She would not allow him to extend his reach.

 

* * *

Kevan, the useless dolt, tried to deny that Cersei had the right to move court. Imagine! A pathetic old man, trying to tell the  _ Queen of the Seven Kingdoms _ what she could and couldn’t do with her own damned court! She had bowed to men all her life, and would not suffer them to steal away her control now that it was finally in her hands, and her hands alone.

Not even Jaime would take it from her.

“I want you as my Hand,” she said, tugging his ear with her teeth. “You might have lost yours, but you can still be my strong right hand, can’t you?”

Jaime panted against her throat. Having him inside her was the rightest thing in the world, even with his right arm weak and unfinished around her waist. His teeth were sharp against her pulse, his body thin under hers, and she would never love anyone as she loved him. 

“I’m not made for ruling, Cersei,” he said later, when she was leaning against his bent legs and looking through a sheaf of reports that had been taken from the Tower of the Hand. “I was made for a sword-”

“But that is beyond you now,” she said. “Tommen has need of you, Jaime.  _ I  _ have need of you. Will you deny me?”

“I have never denied you anything before, sweet sister. Why should I start now?”

She knew that he had denied her the Imp’s head on a spike, but she would forgive him that if he held Kevan at bay long enough for her to heft court westwards.

 

* * *

“Mother,” pretty little Margaery cooed, wearing a riding habit of such splendour that even Cersei, a Lannister and a Queen, found it tasteless. “Will you not ride with me?”

She was still hoping to wed Tommen, Cersei knew. The horrible little bitch still thought to make herself Queen, so that she and her fool father could usurp Cersei’s power. That was all anyone wanted - only Jaime trusted her to rule. Only Jaime knew her well enough to know tht she had been waiting for this all her life. 

Tommen was insisting on riding, and Cersei had decided that she could give him this - Jaime would be with him, and half a dozen redcloaks. He would be safe. The Tyrells would not ensnare him in their thorns, not so long as there was breath in Cersei’s lungs.

“I will travel  in a wheelhouse,” she said. “It’s more proper.”

The wheelhouse was not the same one that had stuck under Winterfell’s miserable gates, but it was just as grand - fit for a Queen. For  _ the  _ Queen. The little rose’s fine horse was nothing against such splendour as Cersei could wield, and by the time they reached the Rock, she would have convinced not only Tommen, but the whole of the realm of that.

“Your Grace,” Jaime said, appearing at her side with his new golden hand settled heavy at his belt. “All is prepared for the departure. Is there anything else I can help you with, my lady?” 

“Not for now, Lord Commander,” she said, pressing her hand to his cheek. “Perhaps this evening, we might meet to discuss the King’s security? I would know all I can about each man guarding my son.”

Jaime smiled, and kissed the edge of her palm with the corner of her mouth, and was gone. Even without his hand, he was the finest, best man in the realm, and she was still thrilled by him, still proud of him. She would help him become more than just his sword. Their father had been fool enough to let Jaime define himself by his swordcraft, but Cersei would do better. She would be better in every single way. Better than her father, better than her fool husband, better even than Rhaegar would have been.

 

* * *

“When we were children,” Jaime was saying to Tommen, “your mother and I used sneak down into the depths of the Rock to see the lions.”

_ “Real _ lions?” Tommen asked, all agog. “Could you touch them, ser uncle?”

“I was never brave enough, but your mother has always been fearless. She used put her whole hand inside the cage, daring the beasts to come along and gobble her up, starting with her fingers.”

_ And now I have both hands, and you only the one,  _ Cersei thought, turning her face to the breeze kissing through the wheelhouse window. Tommen and Jaime were riding just outside, and even with the beard Jaime seemed to have grown fond of, even with Tommen’s fat little face, he was Jaime’s image. It warmed her to see them together, to see Jaime becoming close to their children - he had missed that chance with Joffrey for fear of discovery, but was enjoying it now with Tommen. 

When Kevan brought Myrcella home - and hadn’t that been a clever idea of Jaime’s, to send Kevan to Sunspear on a diplomatic effort, to get rid of him! - Jaime would have a chance to know their daughter. They would have a chance to be a true family, as they never could while Robert was alive. 

Cersei had never  _ wanted  _ that. No matter her love for Jaime, her determination that her children should have all they deserved, all no child of Robert’s could be worth, had kept him from them. Now, though, she knew better. She had lost Joffrey, and Jaime had not known Joff well enough to love him. She would not allow the same thing to happen with Tommen and Myrcella.

“Mother is the bravest person in the world,” Tommen confided, just loud enough for her to hear. “I would like to be as brave as she is.”

Cersei leaned back from the window, a strange weight sitting in her chest - Tommen recognised her lion’s heart? Good. Let him aspire to her as much as he did to Jaime, and she might shape him into a boy as bold and strong as Joffrey had been.

 

* * *

A raven from Kevan found them at Deep Den. 

Some disaster had struck Myrcella - he did not say what, only that she was grievously injured but not dying - but the Martells had agreed to send her home, and Kevan had bargained the little princeling into the parcel.

Cersei did not care about Trystane Nymeros Martell becoming her houseguest, only that Myrcella, her beautiful, beloved girl, was hurt. Had she been any other mother, she would have run all the way to Dorne to be with Myrcella, but she had a realm to govern, a court to preside over, and the goldroad through the hills to the Rock to travel. It broke her heart to abandon Myrcella to Kevan’s less than tender care, but Tommen’s need was greater - not even Jaime was worth of being left alone to keep her boy.

Kevan also wrote that Arys Oakheart had been killed in whatever calamity had befallen Myrcella, and that at least was something worth salvaging from this disaster. One less Reacher close to her children was always something to be celebrated, as far as Cersei was concerned. Now all she needed was the Knight of Flowers to get himself killed, and she would be that much nearer to her goal. 

“She’ll be home with us as soon as she’s well enough to travel,” Jaime said after struggling through the letter. Tommen had some of Jaime’s slowness in that regard, but she had made certain that his tutors were much, much stricter than Jaime’s had been.

Jaime’s prodigious skill in the yard had helped him escape any consequences of his less academic leanings, but Tommen was King, and Tommen was nowhere near a match for Jaime at the same age with a sword. Cersei could remember Jaime’s ferocity as easily as if she were still watching him from their mother’s side, and the joy he had taken in beating down boys three and four years their senior. Tommen was full of joy, but it was a soft sort of happiness that would lead him more in the first Viserys’ steps than in those of the Young Dragon. 

Sometimes, Cersei dreamed about what might have happened had Jaime claimed the throne for himself after slaying Aerys. She would have been his Queen, their children still crowned in gold, and he would have been  _ mighty.  _ Grand in his own right, of course, but with her at his side, openly at his side, he would have been glorious. 

Joffrey, in that world, would still be alive. That even more than Myrcella’s pain broke Cersei’s heart.

“Safe,” she said, reaching out the wheelhouse window to brush her hand down the back of his arm, behind the edge of his plate. He wouldn’t feel it through his chainmail, but he would know.  “She will be safe, as will we all.”

“Except the roses,” Jaime said, grinning so his teeth shone bright and sharp against the honey-dark of his beard. She was coming around to the beard, if only for how very leonine he looked with it. “We shall cut them back, and see that they do not return.”

Pretty Margaery’s hair was braided through with tiny silk rose buds in gold and white, and they caught the fading sun when she leaned over to talk to her idiot father.

It made Cersei laugh sometimes, the way the girl relied so on her father. Tywin Lannister would never have allowed Cersei to show such weakness. Cersei thought she might allow a little of it in Tommen and Myrcella, but only behind firmly locked doors.

 

* * *

The first breath of salt-air caught in Cersei’s throat like tears, but she was not so foolish as to weep. The Rock had loomed large above them for days now, but the taste of the sea on the wind meant they were close. 

Her lord father’s remains were still central to their party, the gilded casket grander than most men’s tombs. Cersei had been close to hating her father by his death, but that did not mean she would suffer his being diminished, even by the Stranger. Soon, he would be at rest beside her lady mother, and then she would have no strings holding her to her place as  _ Tywin Lannister’s daughter,  _ just as ridding herself of her beloved husband had cut her free from her punishment as  _ Robert Baratheon’s wife.  _ She would stand alone as Cersei of House Lannister, Queen and ruler, the finest monarch the Seven Kingdoms had seen since the Conqueror himself. 

“Will you establish court in the High Hall, or the Gilded Gallery?” Jaime asked through the wheelhouse window. He looked so very fine, all in red and gold with his white cloak like an unwelcome memory over his shoulders - soon, it would be just that. She had coaxed Tommen around to thinking about it, and he would soon think it was his own idea, and would be so very proud of it. She wondered if he even noticed the way his breathing had become deeper and smoother, just as her own had. “One as Queen, one as Lady of the Rock?”

“I would need someone to sit as Lord of the Rock while I sat as Queen,” she said, leaning out just enough to cause her hair to spill loose in the sunshine. How beautiful they both must look, even with that fool beard of Jaime’s. How envious the silly Tyrell girl must be, to be without her brother in a strange place while Cersei was reunited with her other half, and going home. “Who do you think might fit, brother mine?”

His smile was lazy, and perfect. Cersei matched it before sitting back. They were nearly home, and then, Tommen could speak out.

Joffrey had released Barristan Selmy simply to be rid of him. Tommen could release Jaime for a good cause.

 

* * *

Even Margaery Tyrell, who hid everything behind that practised little smile of hers, was awed by the Rock. Cersei had made the choice to ride up the steps into the Lion’s Mouth with Tommen, and knew immediately that it had been the right choice. The household saw her before they saw Tommen, saw the crown on her head, and knew that she had not relinquished power to some fool  _ man _ as Tommen’s regent. 

“Welcome home, Your Grace,” Creylen said, his chain jingling as he bowed. “Your Grace, Ser Jaime - welcome, all of you. Ser Kevan writes that Princess Myrcella will be joining us soon as well?”

“As soon as she is recovered enough from whatever befell her in Dorne to travel, yes,” Cersei said, taking Jaime’s hand to dismount. “Everything is prepared for our arrival, maester?”

“Aye, Your Grace,” Creylen said, offering her his arm. He was an old man, but something of his bearing reminded her of Barristan the Bold - he held himself sternly upright, cropped his steely grey hair short to his scalp, and wore a pair of Myrish eye-lenses on a neat chain of narrow gold links around his neck, above his maester’s chain. There was a reassuring practicality about him, and the trust her lord father had had in the old man all these years soothed Cersei a little. “I ordered a room prepared for the Princess, too, in case she arrives earlier than expected. Your father’s rooms have been prepared for you, my lady.”

The Lord’s rooms. Perhaps she could appoint Creylen Grand Maester.

 

* * *

Green cloaks were a rare sight indeed around the Rock, and Cersei was doing her best to make them rarer still. There was nothing Fat Mace could do to stop her, not now that she had stripped away all his little friends, sending them home to defend their lands against the Greyjoy pirates on the western coast. 

“Tommen said something interesting today,” Jaime said, closing the door of her solar behind him. “He said that I was to be released from my vows. I wonder what gave him that idea?”

“I did,” Cersei said, happier now than she could remember being since her wedding day. Jaime held out his hand - the real one - and she went to him as easily as a sigh. He wrapped his arms tight around her, and she was relieved that he seemed stronger and healthier than he had in King’s Landing. The long ride had obviously done him good, as had spending so much time with Tommen. Between Jaime’s recovery, the Tyrells’ fall from influence, and the raven arrived just this morning carrying word of Myrcella’s departure from Sunspear, there was nothing more Cersei could ask for.

Well. Perhaps there was one thing.

“Would it not please you?” she asked, leaning up so her lips were right against Jaime’s ear, just as he liked. “To be free of these vows, so you might take up another?”

“And have you a wife chosen for me, sweet sister?”

She leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, and smiled. He was smiling too.

 

* * *

Tommen was coming into his own somewhat, and Cersei had to wonder if it had anything to do with being away from even just Joffrey’s ghost. Joff had burned so bright as to outshine any brothers, even had they been fierce and proud. Tommen had never been either, but that did not seem so much a problem here.

He’d even started growing taller very suddenly, sprouting long legs and broad shoulders, like a gamboling foal learning independence. According to Jaime, he’d even started showing promise on the yard, something that he’d never done before, and the journey from King’s Landing had given him an appetite for riding that could not be satisfied. He was starting to remind her of Jaime as a boy, laughing and joyous, and had started to gather all the other boys of his age around himself. That could only be for the good, for it stripped little Margaery of her last hope at power - how could Tommen want his brother’s widow, when he could have the sister of one of his friends, a good Western girl his own age?

“It bodes well for our grand departure,” Jaime siad, hooking his chin over her shoulder. “He is doing so much better than he was in King’s Landing. Becoming a real little king.”

Cersei scratched at his beard, relishing the heat of him pressing up along her back, the weight of his arms around her waist. Next week, Jaime would be free of his white cloak. Now, already, they were free of the constraints of King’s Landing, of their father, and had been more open in their affection. It would not be long until they could be truly honest, and that would be true happiness. Tommen would be King, Cersei Queen Regent, and Jaime Lord of the Rock - and only too happy to be ruled by Cersei. 

Perhaps they could even find a way to let Myrcella keep her little prince, and elevate him enough to make him worthy of a daughter of the Rock. If the Imp could manage to kill Joff, then surely Cersei and Jaime together could rid themselves of two Martells.

 

* * *

“Maester Creylen says Cella is only a few days away,” Tommen said, his legs swinging under the table as he ploughed through his sweet beets and bright pink gammon. “May we have a feast to welcome her home? With dancing? My dancing master says I’ve improved very much, lady mother, and I should like to dance with you if I may.”

“I should be honoured to dance with you, Your Grace,” Cersei assured him, waving away the boy who tried to refill her cup of wine - she would not become a sot such as her late husband, not while there was ruling to be done. Jaime would never allow her to become such, anyway, but better not to cause trouble between them now when they were so close to their victory.

Jaime smiled behind his cup, nodding an absent thanks to the girl who’d cut his dinner small for him, and winked at her when Tommen was looking away. Yes, she would dance with him as well, and mayhap even with poor stupid Mace Tyrell, just to put him in his place.

She would have Myrcella back. All the family she had left would be returned to her, and she would be stronger than she had ever been before. Queen, mother, and perhaps even wife.

Yes. Wife. She liked the sound of it, now her husband would be her own choice.

 

* * *

Myrcella’s welcoming feast could double as a wedding feast - Cersei had made certain that her sweet girl would not take insult in that, and indeed, Myrcella had seemed relieved that she would not be the centre of the festivities. 

Her poor face. Her poor, beautiful face.

“It doesn’t hurt so badly now that the infection is gone, lady mother,” Myrcella promised, adjusting the wrap of her snowy linen bandages just a little. She did her best to smile, even though Cersei knew it had to be painful.

“My brave girl,” Cersei said, kissing Myrcella’s golden curls and cursing Arys Oakheart to the very deepest hell. She hoped he suffered. She hoped he  _ burned. _ “Shall we, sweetling?”

Tommen was waiting outside the door, wearing his new crown - a solid band, engraved with stags, yes, but those stags were being chased by proud lions. Even before Stannis had started those nuisance rumours of his, she had matched her own arms with Robert’s for the children, and would keep doing so until she felt it safe Since Tommen’s recent growth, Cersei had heard more than one person comment that Robert’s mother had had green eyes, and that Tommen was the same rangey build Renly had been at that age, and didn’t Princess Myrcella remind you of Lord Steffon, with that quiet, regal manner of hers?

It was good for people to see something of the Baratheons in her children, even if the very idea of it made Cersei sick.

But that was not for today. Today was for a gown of shimmering golden samite embroidered with lions in red silk thread. Today was for her mother’s rubies at her throat, and her father’s signet ring hanging on a long golden chain between her breasts. Today was for her hair curling loose down her back like a maiden’s, golden as a lion’s mane against the crimson velvet of her cloak. Today was for Cersei to take Tommen’s arm while Myrcella carried her train. It was not a long walk from the bridal chamber to the sept, and they would gather more followers on their way. But for now, it was just Cersei and her children - Tommen, Myrcella, and a curl of Joffrey’s bright hair in a locket, tied with red satin ribbon. 

Jaime would be waiting. Together, they would rule Westeros. Someday, if they played the game just right, mayhap they could even take the world. Anything was possible from atop the Rock.


End file.
